


Please Don't Leave

by LizzytheWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, F/M, general angst?, many have cried over this one?, oneshot turned series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:52:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzytheWriter/pseuds/LizzytheWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You love Sam, but when you find him meeting up with someone from his past suddenly everything you thought you knew about his love for you is in the balance-- will the two of you be able to overcome it or will it break you both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Don't Leave

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request that I filled a while ago, which will be turning into a full mini-series based on two drabble requests that I got today which just felt right. If I remember, this piece was sort of popular, so it’s getting it’s own post to go along with the two parts that will follow it.

You packed your bags quickly, throwing everything in sight into the duffle bags you lived out of. You raced around the hotel room, grabbing toiletries, car keys, clothing, everything. You had to go. You hoped Sam would understand but it was unlikely that he would. But after what you’d just seen. There was no staying, not while you knew where Sam was going every night, had seen him with that bitch. God you hated her.  _Ruby_. The name stuck in your throat like goo, making you feel sick to your stomach. 

As you were beginning to write a note to Dean explaining why you’d left and apologizing for ditching in the middle of a case, the older Winchester got back from the local bar, collapsing on the bed he’d claimed, moaning something about “too tired to function” into the pillow. He rolled onto his back, laying spread eagle on the bed before sitting up and looking around the room, taking in the lack of your things and the two bags sitting by your feet. You looked down nervously, chewing nervously at the end of the pen that you’d been about to write with.

“(y/n), whats going on? Why are you packed?” Dean walked towards you slowly, head cocked to one side, he sat down next to you on the couch. You felt his hand pull your face up so he could look you in the eye, but you looked away avoiding his gaze. You knew how he would react if he knew her royal bitchness was influencing Sam again. “(y/n)? Please talk to me? Where’s Sam? I thought he came back here with you? Did you fight or…?” When the you didn’t respond he put his hand on your back and leaned into the couch, just being there for whatever was coming.

The two of you sat there for awhile, just quiet. He didn’t pressure you or make you talk, at some point he handed you a glass of whiskey that you gulped down gratefully. You weren’t sure that you could leave him after that to deal with your boyfri- his brother’s mess alone. Finally when the alcohol had loosened your tongue and relaxed your nerves you decided to tell Dean. “I followed him. He thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t and I followed him.”

Dean snapped to attention when you started talking, leaning forward trying watching you closely. “What do you mean? Was he going for a run or—”

“He walked for awhile and for a while I thought that’s all it was, until I realized he was looking for an address. He kept checking texts, where I assume she sent him the address.”

“She?” Dean sounded on edge and more nervous than anything. But you knew all too well that that would quickly be replaced with anger.

“Ruby.”

It took him a moment to respond but when he did it was little more than a hoarse whisper “What?

“He was meeting Ruby, at an abandoned apartment downtown.” Your words were halting and slow and you were about to go on, when the door to the motel room opened again and Sam stopped the moment he walked in the door, looking like a deer in headlights. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you looked at the ground instead, avoiding the tension that you could feel bubbling in the room as Dean clenched his fists resting on his knees and Sam looked at you both, confused and unsure about what was happening.

“Uh, hey guys. What’s going on? Is something wrong?” Sam moved to stand in front of the two of you, you could hear him shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. But you still refused to look at him. He’d been with her. Doing God knows what with God knows who, and that was enough for you to leave.

The tension in the room continued to grow while Dean tried to find the words to express his anger and you tried to find the courage to get up and walk out the door. Dean got there first.

“Where’ve you been Sammy?” The sentence was sweet and dark at the same time, and it almost was terrifying enough to make you cringe when Dean said it. Sam just lowered his gaze and pursed his lips, avoiding an answer. So Dean continued with the same slow sweet tone that he’d chosen for this conversation, “because (y/n) here tells me you went out for a little walk on the town.”

“Yeah, I uh, couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” You could hear the fear building in Sam’s voice as his brother stood up to face him.

“Really? Couldn’t sleep huh. Well I find that easy enough to believe, I mean I’d be nervous too if I was going out to meet some Hell bitch behind my girlfriend’s and my brother’s backs.” Sam didn’t know where to look, his eyes snapped from you to Dean and back again as he struggled for an answer.

“Dean, (y/n), I can explain, it’s not—” He didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence when Dean’s fist went flying into the side of his jaw, knocking him back. And while Sam rubbed his jaw Dean took his time ripping into him with that same tone.

“Not what? The gross perverted betrayal that it looks like? Not you slinking around with a demon, the same demon that you’ve had a running history with? A sexual one at that, while your girlfriend is asleep and your brother is out? No. It’s definitely not that.” Dean looked like he could take another swing at Sam, but you shot him a look that made him pause and soften, taking into account your own relationship with his brother. Standing slowly you walked over to Sam, who looked like he wanted to speak but knew better.

“Sam,” you started softly, knowing that tears would soon be in your eyes, “Sam I’m leaving. I’ll text Dean my new number so I can get ahold of him, let you two know I’m alive. But I can’t stay here. Not knowing that you’ve been out and about with her for God knows how long,” you choked a little as the next sentence formed in your head, the implications of which you weren’t sure you could handle, but you hoped it hurt him as much as it would hurt you to say it, “Doing God  knows what together.”

And the look on his face was enough to justify the pain in your chest, as you turned on your heel walking past Dean to your bags which still lay on the floor, picking them up and walking to the open door. With one last look back you nodded to Dean who looked almost as pained as Sam to see you go, but who wasn’t going to stop you. “He’s all yours Dean. Goodbye, and thank you.” He nodded and the sadness on his face quickly turned to anger. You turned and walked out the door.

Sam went to run at the door shouting after you into the night “Please, (y/n), don’t do this!” But you started your car and drove away before you could see him break down on the pavement, still begging quietly for you, “please don’t leave.”


	2. The Weight of the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A drabble request which is the second part to “Please Don’t Leave”. So much angst. So much pain. I don’t even know how else to describe this. Like I said earlier, there will be a final piece to this which I think will probably end up being a lot of hurt/comfort and fluff, so you can look forward that that. This was really intricate for the amount of time I spent on it. Basically I saw the request– and you don’t want to hear about my writing process. Here’s some good old fashioned Sammy angst folks. We pick up a few months after the reader has left the Winchesters. (This was so much longer than I intended originally…. Oops.)

“ _Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?_ ” The words rang from your lips as you drove, foot down, stereo up. You weren’t sure where you were going at this point. You’d hit up a few small towns since you’d left the Winchesters. Finished off a few salt and burns, nothing heavy, just enough to keep you driving and distracted.

Only when the light started to fade and you could see fireflies in the trees along the empty highway, did you think about stopping for the night. Even if you didn’t want to sleep, your eyes were starting to get heavy and as self-destructive as you were at the moment, you weren’t ready to die.

Pulling off the lonely highway, you parked under the glittering trees, but left the engine on, still humming along to the crooning voice that echoed into the dying light. You leaned back into the leather, resting your head flat on the top of the bench seat. Above you stars were starting to make their appearances, not to be outdone by the fireflies. You imagined they were satellites and ships that were coming to take you far far away. You didn’t want to die, but you did want to escape.  

Pulling yourself from the padded seat, you moved around to the back of the car to pull the top up. You loved sleeping under the stars, but not when the radio was telling you the stars were planning for rain tonight. With the hood fastened shut you went to the trunk and pulled out a couple of blankets and pillows that you arranged in the backseat as a makeshift bed for the night. You’d been sleeping like this for awhile, you either didn’t feel like spending the money on a motel or the only options reminded you too much of your time with Sam and Dean.

You finally shut off the engine and turned on a wireless radio that you jacked your phone into, setting an alarm for the next morning and turning on soft jazz to fall asleep to. Settling in for the night you check your gun one more time, tucking it under your pillow and let sleep take over your senses.

The jazz continued into your dreams and you found yourself in a glittering dress and heels, dressed to the nines. The music filled the atmosphere and it almost felt like everything around you had been constructed from the notes themselves. Everything was in shades of grey, but that only made the club you were standing in feel more real, because places like this only existed in movies. The band was playing on stage and you felt your hips sway naturally to the slow beat and the voice of the woman who was crooning on stage, cradling the mic in her hands lovingly.

“ _Lay me down tonight, in my diamonds and pearls. Tell me something nice, about your favorite girl._ ”  

Looking around you didn’t see anyone you recognized. At first. But there he was.

“ _Lay me down tonight, in my linen and curls. Lay me down tonight, I’m your favorite girl._ ”

He was the only thing in color, even though his suit was jet black, pinstripes running down the length of it. His face was the same as it always was, even under the slicked back hair. And his eyes glinted hazel in the dim lights, even through the smoke of the smokers, they enchanted you.

He was walking towards you slowly, even with his long stride, but when you held out your arms to greet him, he passed right through you. You spun, confused and then you saw her. Ruby red lips and shimmering black hair, eyes like the sky and a figure that made heads snap. You shrunk back into the shadows, tears filling your eyes while you watched them dance to the slow tune.

“ _I fucked my way up to the top, this is my show…_ ”

You could feel your heart breaking all over again. He had one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. Her eyes sparkled in the light with a fierce possessiveness that you couldn’t hope to ever compete with. From across the room you met her gaze for a moment, but before anything else could go hopelessly wrong you ran through pained glass doors, out into the dark.

“ _I’m a dragon, you’re a whore. Don’t even know what you’re good for. Mimicking me is a fucking bore…_ ”

The night swallowed you but you kept running, through fields and trees..

“ _Go, go, go, go. This is my show. Need you baby, like I breath you baby, need you baby, more, more, more…_ ”

You sat up quickly, cold sweat rolling off of your face.

You’d pack up the car quickly, eager to leave your dreams behind you. You put your foot to the gas and drove on. You weren’t really sure how, but you managed to find yourself in Kansas, not an hour from the bunker. You knew this could all be a huge mistake, but somewhere deep down, you could feel that even with all that could go wrong here, now, you needed to see him. Even if it meant breaking your heart all over again.

The diner was cool and crisp. It reminded you of white summers. With bright linens, blue skies, daisy chains, and white shores meeting with bright blue seas. It was the complete opposite of the summer you’d been having. The last few months had been dewy and dark with rolling thunderstorms, yellow headlights streaking through a foggy highway, and misty mornings, heavy with an atmosphere that made depression easier to carry, because somehow the air was as thick with the feeling as you were.

You kept your eyes on the menu, hoping that if you distracted yourself long enough, maybe they wouldn’t come. But even as you scanned the lists of food, your stomach turned over and all you could do was ask the waitress nervously for another glass of water.

Heavy footsteps entered the diner, but you didn’t look up. You stared at that menu like your life depended on it. Someone sat down in the booth across from you and only then did you force yourself to meet the gaze of the man sitting there. But instead of hazel eyes, you were met with a beautiful jade color. Dean. A heavy sigh of relief left your lips and you smiled nervously at the older Winchester, who returned the gesture, silently nodding at you. That silence prevailed for a few more moments, until he was the one to break the silence.

“I hear the waffles here are good.” You fold the menu in front of you, pushing it to the edge of the table for when the waitress came around again.

“Yeah, they’re all right. But the coffee is definitely worth the drive.” You sounded a little hoarse to be honest. You hadn’t done a lot of talking to anyone in the last few months. But if Dean noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh yeah, definitely. I’ve had a serious craving for diner coffee. The instant stuff we have at the bunker just doesn’t feel right, you know?” You smiled and nodded quietly in agreement. He folded his menu and waved over a waitress.

“Hey honey, what can I get’chya?” She pulled a notepad out of her black apron. 

“I’ll have two eggs, scrambled. With a side of toast and jam. And a pot of your best coffee.” He winked at her and she smiled nodding, while she took the order. Then she looked to you.

“And what about you sugar? You need anything other than more water?”

“Uh, um,” you had to clear your throat before going on, “Yeah, can I get a hot tea please? With honey?”

“Sure thing hon, I’ll be out in a few with that.” And she left, still jotting down something in the notebook, leaving you alone with Dean again. You started playing with your hands nervously, unsure of what to say next.

“So, um. What have you guys been up to since I’ve been gone?” You looked up into Dean’s face. You at least owed him that, not this shy, anxious crap that was eating you alive.

“How about you start? You been okay on your own? Please tell me you’ve been safe.”

“I’ve been safe Dean. I promise. Just salt and burn stuff. And I’ve been traveling a lot.” You paused, “I don’t think I really knew what else to do. I don’t really have somewhere to call home like you do. So it’s just been me and my car and the highway.” He nodded like that was about what he’d expected you to say.

“Good. To answer your question—”

“Here you kids go.” The waitress was back with your orders and it was like fate was stalling for you. After she’d left your orders and you and Dean had both thanked her generously, promising that you didn’t need anything else, Dean continued.

“We’ve been working. Not as much as we might have been, but,” he took a deep breath and a gulp of coffee before going on, “after that night, there were some things to, sort out. Sam and I,” your spoon clinked loudly against the glass and your stomach did a backflip, “we dealt with the issue.” He meant Ruby. “And after some detox,” he’d been on demon blood again, “we got back to work.” You nodded silently still stirring your tea. “(Y/n), I know this is hard for you.” You looked up at him again. There was nothing but brotherly love and sympathy in his expression. “I know it took a lot for you to even show up today. You didn’t have to, and I half expected you to cancel. But (y/n),” he put and hand under your chin, lifting your face, “I’ve missed you. So much. And I can’t say how great it is to see you again. Things just haven’t been the same…” you swallowed hard and nodded, fighting the tears in your eyes.

“I’ve missed you too Dean. I’ve been,” You paused to slow your breathing and force back tears, “I’ve been so lonely, since I left. And sometimes, sometimes I’m okay, but a lot of the time it’s all I can do to  just keep going and not give up, run away for good and lose myself out there.” Dean nodded and grasped your hand over the table, squeezing tight.

“It’s going to be okay, (y/n), I promise.” You nodded and sipped your tea. While Dean ate, you asked each other light questions, falling into a banter that you had definitely missed while you’d been on the road. And after you paid and tipped, you walked out of the diner, his arm around your shoulder hugging you tight. It was only then that it dawned on you. Only was it then that you questioned how easy Dean had made fixing Sam and his problems, seem.

“Dean?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Dean, where’s Sam?” He stopped cold. The atmosphere dropped and something told you that you weren’t going to like what was coming next.

“Sam, Sammy, he couldn’t be here. I don’t know how to—”

“To what Dean?” You had been nervous about seeing Sam but it was something that you were still determined to do. You needed to know what was going on, even if, after this afternoon you decided that you still wanted to separate yourself from the brothers for a while still.

“Maybe it’s better if I show you.”

* * *

You pulled into the bunker and the atmosphere was heavy again, like it had been that morning, but this time it felt like the world was carrying someone else’s pain. Because for the first time since you had left, you didn’t feel like running, or laying down in the backseat because you didn’t think you could move. This time the world was still and silent for someone else.

The interior of the bunker was much the same. With the exception of your and Dean’s footsteps, there was a silence that clung to the rooms and tiles, it filled you with unease, and the nervousness that had plagued you this morning returned.

Dean led you down the halls you had once called home to Sam’s room. The door creaked the way it always had as Dean guided it open and there he was. But this wasn’t the Sam you remembered.

He was huddled in an arm chair off the the side of the room, wearing sweat pants and an undershirt. His hair looked dull and unwashed, and when he looked up at you there was a emptiness in his eyes that unnerved you.

“Dean?” It wasn’t a statement, it was a question. Like Sam didn’t know if Dean was there or not.

“Yeah Sammy, it’s me.” There was a deep melancholy in his voice now, a voice that only an hour earlier you had been laughing with, exchanging quips. Now it was like he was holding up the world.

“(Y/n)?” Sam looked at you now, but where you might have expected longing, or even the love that you once had seen in those eyes, you saw only fear. “Dean, she’s back. Dean please, please make her stop, she’s going to hurt me again!” The words trembled on his lips and your own eyes widened in shock.  

“Dean, what’s he talking about? Sammy it’s me.” Sam curled further into the chair if that was even possible.

“Sammy, hey it’s okay. Calm down little brother.” Dean’s voice was level and smooth until he hit the last word and his voice cracked. And suddenly it hit you. Sam didn’t think you were real. He thought he was hallucinating. This was what withdrawal looked like on Sam Winchester.

You looked to Dean for permission to go to him and he nodded deftly, eyes glistening. You were slow and careful, keeping with the same mannerisms you would use around a scared child, or a feral animal. He was playing with his hands, trying not to look at you. When you reached out to touch his face, he flinched and you moved back a fraction.

“Please, (y/n), I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, please (y/n), I need you to forgive me. Please..” Tears ran down his face and you let out a soft sob, your hand running up his face, rough with stubble.

“I forgive you Sammy. I forgive you.” Your voice cracked and tears tracked your face. He had relaxed out of his ball enough for you to encircle him with your arms. You sobbed into his chest and he into your shoulder. Your Sam was so broken, you were both so broken. And right now the rest of the world was going to have to wait while you fixed each other


	3. Light As The Breeze (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is part one of part three of Please Don’t Leave and Weight of the World. I promise we will get to the domestic bliss that I promised! ENJOY
> 
> For the record nothing I’m posting tonight has been proof read, so like, it could totally all suck. Just so you know.

Lebanon Kansas wasn’t the worst place in the world to live. It was kind of a nowhere town, with a population of 206 there was main street and then fields. The only real attraction was the geographic center of the Continental United States, but honestly no one really even knew about that. You’d grown comfortable with the only ambient noise being crickets and the occasional thunderstorm. There were fields surrounding the house you’d taken up residence in, and you liked to walk through them, brushing your hand along the too long grass and picking wildflowers for drying and the kitchen table. 

The bunker was only a few miles away, close enough to walk if you really wanted to. You spent a lot of time there, with Sam and Dean. It’d been a few months since you’d moved back to Kansas, and there was a relief that came with not being on the road alone all the time. As angry as you had been with Sam and how desperately you had needed to get away from everything, this was your home, the boys were your home. 

An alarm on the stove called your attention back to now. Opening the oven the room filled with the sweet smell of apple pie. You were having dinner with the boys tonight and you wanted to celebrate a little bit. It’d been several months since Sam had been clean, and he was finally starting to get past the paranoia and accompanying nightmares that came with detox. It’d been a few weeks after you’d come back that the hallucinations had stopped and he’d been comfortable with you and Dean in a room that wasn’t his own. Sam was finally beginning to get back to his old self now and that was definitely something to celebrate. Things were falling back into place in your little world, and it was comforting to think that soon everything might be just the way it should be. 

You set the pie out in the window to cool. It was delightfully domestic, and for some strange reason you felt like a real woman. Baking in a farmhouse in the middle of a field, apron tied around your waist and a long skirt flowing to your ankles. You knew that nothing about this was indicative of being a “real” woman, but there was something in the quiet domesticated tasks, and wide open space around you that felt nostalgic. No monsters outside of dust bunnies lurking under the bed, and the only red stains you were washing out came from spilling a can of tomato puree. 

You hung the apron up on the pantry door and settled into the worn couch in what had been taken over as a living room, book in hand, music swelling in the background. You weren’t expecting the boys for a while and now was the perfect time to relax and wait out the heat of the day before you continued cooking dinner. The book was good, it was a sci-fi thriller set on the moon. It was nice to read something that didn’t have to do with monsters that weren’t supposed to be real and the best ten ways to get out blood stains. 

You were about an hour into reading when there was a knock on the door. It took you a second to register the sound, you were very engrossed in the novel, but you got up to answer, the strange hour sparking your curiosity. There was a second slightly louder knock as you made your way to the front door. 

“I”m coming, I’m coming!” You swung open the door to find Sam standing there, looking anxious. “Hey Sam,” your eyes searched for Dean but he was nowhere to be found, “What’re you doing here? I’m coming over for dinner still right?” 

“Yeah, uh, yeah no this isn’t about that.” 

* * *

“Sam.” 

“No, Dean.” 

“Sam, you’ve been—”

“I have not.” 

“sulking for a week now.” 

“No.” 

“Sam just go see her.” Dean’s voice was teasing, but there was a layer of serious concern in the undercurrent. (Y/n) hadn’t been staying away per say. But she’d officially moved out of the bunker after she’d come back. It was understandable at the time. She was just getting used to being around people again, let alone Sam and Dean. Because as much as Dean knew they were her family, she needed to take this slowly. So they’d started with dinner once a week or so. She might come over for an afternoon, but never more than a few hours, sometimes less if Sam wasn’t having a good day. 

She wanted to be near him, she wanted to help him, she needed to take care of him. But the hallucinations at first had been too much for Sam, and the things he said about fake-(y/n) cut her deep for a while. Dean understood. After things had gotten better dinner had become a two or three night a week event, and she started spending most of her time during the day in or near the bunker. Everything was falling back into place. They had put a silent hold on hunting, agreeing that it wasn’t safe with the condition Sam was in (to which he had protested, but weakly) and they were being a family again. 

But there was still this lingering distance between them all. Dean was still pissed at Sam, (y/n) was having a hard time readjusting to being with people, and Sam felt guiltier than a kid getting caught at the cookie jar, again. Dean knew that he would forgive Sam, it was just a matter of time. But (y/n), she hadn’t moved back into the bunker, and as far as either of them could tell wasn’t planning on it anytime soon, not that that was really the issue here. The real issue was that she and Sam hadn’t really gotten to the “I’m sorry” speech yet. And so Sam pinned, and Dean watched, and (y/n) stayed distant. 

“It’s a nice house, you might even like it.” Sam glared at his older brother. “Come on Sammy,” Dean whined at him, “you know you just need to talk it out, neither of you is going to move past this if you don’t talk about it. You’ve been together for how long?” Sam mumbled something incoherent. “What was that mumbler?” 

“That doesn’t matter to her anymore.” Dean rolled his eyes at the melodramatic tone, it was like he was thirteen again and trying to get over a crush. Except that this wasn’t a schoolboy crush, it was (y/n), the woman he’d been in love with for the last 4 or 5 years. If he hadn’t been galavanting with Ruby there probably would have been a ring involved already. 

“Sam of course it does, Christ, you really think she’s sticking around in this hick town in particular for no reason? If she wanted to disappear into the middle of nowhere she could have done it anywhere, instead she’s living here, a couple miles down the road. To. Be. Near. You. You asshat.” Dean rolled his eyes and took a pull from his beer, “No go see the woman you love, and fix this once and for all, please. I can’t stand watching you mope like a kicked puppy. You made this mess, now clean it up.” He gathered the book he’d been going through and his beer and made his way back to his room, leaving Sam staring after him. 

* * *

“So what’s this about? Sam?” You leaned against the door jam, hand on your hip. You hadn’t invited him in yet, which was a little rude granted, but also this was the first time he’d decided to come visit you here. Dean had come by a couple times, to make sure you were okay or bring you groceries when you couldn’t make yourself deal with the crowds. But this was definitely the first time Sam had been here and it was strange. 

“This is about,” Sam cleared his throat and sounded a little hoarse when he continued, “This is about us.” The words came out funny and you raised an eyebrow, and then slowly backed into the house, inviting him in. 

Sam was still sitting awkwardly on the couch, knees stiff, hands clasped tight on his lap- like a school boy waiting for the principle and his parents to get out of a meeting, when you came back with iced tea for the both of you. 

Sam mumbled out a quick thank you and sipped on the tea, grateful for a distraction. You sat opposite him, and after a nervous sip out of your own glass finally broke the silence that had invaded the house since he’d stepped inside. 

“You wanted to talk?” You were genuinely curious on that part, you hadn’t been avoiding each other, per say, but the nature of your relationship wasn’t clear. 

“Um, yeah, I just thought,” he took a deep breath, collecting himself, “I just thought we might talk, about us.” 

“This much you have already made clear, Sam.” You set down the glass in your hand before continuing, “I’m not going to push for this conversation if that’s what you’re hoping for. This is all you right now.” He nodded silently in agreement, eyes fixed on the ground. “Hey,”he looked up quickly, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t listen.” His eyes widened a little, and the surprise at not being rejected made your heart drop. 

“I miss you.” 

“If I’m not here I’m at the bunker.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“You betrayed my trust.” 

“I know.” 

“You know?” 

“I want to fix this. I need to fix this. I need you.” 

“You should have considered that before— ”  _before you went behind my back, before you started sucking down demon blood again, before you picked back up with Ruby, before you broke my heart._  

The words you weren’t saying filled the silence and Sam’s whole demeanor changed; his shoulders slumped and his head dropped into his hands, fingers running through his long hair in frustration, the self loathing was evident.

“I just want to come home.” It was a quiet statement, simple and yet confused you. 

“What? Then go home.” You were confused and your voice rose with every sentence that followed, “I don’t know what you expected to accomplish, coming in here, talking about us, and then having nothing to say. What the hell does that even— ” you were standing by the time you got that far, when Sam got to his feet, put his hands on your shoulders, eyes on fire, and cut you off. 

“No, not the bunker, the bunker isn’t my home. You, wherever you are is my home, (y/n).” Silence. 

“I have missed you more than anything the last few months. I have hated myself every second that you’ve been gone, for every second of grief and pain that I have caused. I want to come home, I want to come home to you. I need you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” His hands were holding onto you like you were going to disappear at any second. You stepped closer, your hands found his hips, and the two of you stood there like that for a few moments, the tension crackling like electricity between you. You heart was up in your throat, your breath was heavy, but so was him. And then in a moment of silent communication your lips were on his, and his consumed you.


End file.
